


With Friends Like These...

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Stealth Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Is Not As Funny As He Thinks He Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"This was your idea," Steve reminds him.  "I need to be able to keep up in the field, you said, just in case –"</i>
</p><p>  <i>Sam levels his second best glare Steve's way. (He doesn't have the energy for his best glare – that one tends to work better if he's standing.)  "Next time you throw yourself out of a building and expect me to catch your ass, I'm gonna let you drop."</i></p><p>  <i>"I'm sensing a bit of sarcasm in your tone."</i></p><p>  <i>Sam holds out his hand, the glower deepening.  "Shut up and help me stand so I can </i>kick<i> your tiny ass."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	With Friends Like These...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Tower Party Round Two Challenge](http://towerparty.livejournal.com/profile). My prompt was: _the fireball at the end of everything._

One of these days, the crazy, adrenaline junkies he calls friends are _actually_ going to kill him.

Sam collapses onto the grass, chest heaving, lungs burning, and rubs at his knee and his calf. Shoulda taken it a little easy that last couple of miles, but, well, he's an Avenger for a reason. His competitive streak is just as big as the rest of the team's. Although, one day he'll remember he's not 23 anymore and maybe wearing a knee brace when he's out for a run might not be the worst idea he's ever had.

He sucks down his bottle of water and watches as Steve turns the corner and comes into view. He's already lapped Sam four times and barely even looks like he's broken a sweat, the smug bastard. 

Steve slows, then stops, when he gets to Sam, and his grin is more what Sam would call a shit-eating smirk than anything else. "Tapping out already? We've still got five laps to go."

Sam lifts his hand in a lazy wave. He's too tired to flip Steve off the way he deserves. "You have fun without me."

"This was your idea," Steve reminds him. "I need to be able to keep up in the field, you said, just in case –"

Sam levels his second best glare Steve's way. (He doesn't have the energy for his best glare – that one tends to work better if he's standing.) "Next time you throw yourself out of a building and expect me to catch your ass, I'm gonna let you drop."

"I'm sensing a bit of sarcasm in your tone."

Sam holds out his hand, the glower deepening. "Shut up and help me stand so I can _kick_ your tiny ass."

Steve laughs and takes it, pulling Sam to his feet. "If your idea of kicking my ass is wheezing on me, sure, go for it. I could use the breeze."

Even chuckling hurts right now, but no way Sam's gonna let Steve know that. "Were you always this much of a smartass?" he asks, falling into step with Steve. Who, thankfully, is taking it easy for a minute. Whether it's because he's got a tiny bit of empathy for his lesser, mere-mortal friends or he's just interested in the conversation, Sam doesn't know, and doesn't really care. He'll take the respite and be thankful for it.

"Pretty much," Steve admits, and hands Sam his spare water bottle. "Bucky claims I was born with a smart mouth, and he might not be too far off. You learn a lot growing up as sickly and small as I was. I may not have been able to out-run or out-hit all the bullies in our neighborhood, but I was sure as hell going to outwit them."

"I can see that," Sam says, around a mouthful of blessedly cool liquid. "That's how a lot of comedians got their start, in fact, although let's be real clear here. You're not _nearly_ as funny as you think you are."

Steve grins and slaps him in the back, just _this_ shy of toppling him over. Sam knows he's doing in on purpose, too. "I'm hilarious, ask anyone. Bucky laughs at my jokes all the time."

Sam snorts as he hands Steve back the bottle. He almost feels human again. Albeit, a creaky old-man human, but he'll take it. "He's got the same terrible sense of humor you do, he doesn't count. They musta put something in the water back in the Stone Ages when you two were growing up."

Steve spreads his hands out wide and starts jogging backwards so he can keep looking at Sam. His gait is still perfect, as is his form. Makes it look easy as hell, too, the show-off. "You're just jealous of my skills."

"Not so much, no," Sam replies, and breaks into his own easy jog, testing out the calf and, more importantly, the knee. Both twinge and bark at him, but he'll be damned if he says anything. He's got a rep to protect, and he can already hear all of Steve's bad jokes from a mile away. "But you keep telling yourself that."

Steve gives him another grinning smirk, and neatly dodges a woman with a stroller coming the opposite direction, all without even turning around. "Ma'am," he says, and nods respectfully as she passes. But his cheeks pinken at the appreciative glance she gives the both of them in return. His gaze drops to his shoes and he slows, for him, to almost a crawl. It's honestly hilarious.

"One day, man, you're gonna learn not to blush every time a woman looks at you like she's thinking about putting that souped up body of yours through a horizontal workout," Sam comments, delighted as all get out. Watching Steve get all stammery over attractive women is still the cheapest entertainment going.

Steve groans, and his cheeks turn even pinker. Sam kinda wants to pinch them. "You're as bad as Bucky. He thinks it's funny."

"You know, I'm beginning to like his sense of humor more and more by the second," Sam says, and his grin grows even wider when he catches sight of the figure heading towards them at full speed from the top of the hill.

"What's that smile for?" Steve frowns at him, brows furrowed. "You only smile like that when you – _oof_!"

Sam laughs so hard his sides start aching again as Bucky crashes into Steve and tackles him onto the grass by the sidewalk. They roll over in a pile of limbs and curses (Steve) and loud cackling (Bucky) until Bucky finally gets the upper hand and straddles Steve's hips.

"Getting sloppy there, Rogers," he says, looking down at Steve in amusement as he reties his hair back into its ponytail. "You should've heard me coming from half a mile away."

"He was distracted," Sam says, flopping down cross-legged beside them. He'll never admit it out loud, but he's just as thankful Bucky'd come by to break up the workout. As it stands, he'll be hobbling back to his place. And he'll be buying that damned knee brace, too.

"Was he now?" Bucky's grin turns sly as he looks from Sam to Steve. "Was she really pretty?"

"Fuck off," Steve replies, squirming under Bucky to try to get away. Bucky, who really does have thighs like steel bands (not that Sam's checked them out or anything), just flexes and squeezes until Steve takes the hint and goes still.

"Was she pretty?" Bucky asks Sam.

Sam hums his agreement. "Curvy in all the right places and _very_ appreciative of Steve and all of his Captain America beefcake-y goodness."

"Can't say that I blame her. I mean, going out in running shorts and a tight tee, Steve, really? Are you trying to get arrested for indecent exposure?" Bucky asks, with a lewd grin and an expressive waggle of his eyebrows.

"There's nothing indecent about what I'm wearing," Steve protests, and leans up enough to jab a finger at Bucky's chest. "Besides, you're just as indecent. You trying to give me a heart attack with that tank top?"

"Maaaaaaaybe," Bucky tells him with a wink. "Why, you like what you see?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not even going to answer that. Your ego's big enough."

Bucky leans down, presses a kiss to Steve's slack lips. "My ego's not the only thing that's big enough."

Both Steve _and_ Sam groan at that one. "You're terrible," Steve says, but he belies the point by wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck to keep him in place.

"Yeah, but you love me," Bucky replies, and their lips meet again, not quite so light.

Sam gives them a second to remember they're in a public park, then remembers that this is Bucky and Steve, who probably stopped giving a fuck about societal conventions the day they were both born, and gets back to his feet. Bucky's hands are sliding along Steve's sides now, and Steve's hands are all in Bucky's hair, wrecking the ponytail yet again. They haven't even come up for air. Super soldiers and their super serum, man. Sam doesn't mind admitting to himself he's impressed.

Sam just shakes his head fondly at them, then heads gingerly towards the sidewalk. If he's lucky, they'll be so occupied with each other that he'll be able to walk home, then get into a hot bath to relax his aching muscles, before they even realize he's gone. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Stephrc79](stephrc79.tumblr.com) for the beta!!!!
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](brendaonao3.tumblr.com). :)


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